Nowhere to Run (18 page)

“My finger hurts, Daddy.”

Thomas had taken off his soggy mitten and was holding his pink-skinned hand up for his father to see. Mike took the small hand and inspected it, kissing the tiny cut on the index finger.

“It’s just a little cut, Thomas. It will be all right. We’ll put some Bactine and a bandage on it when we get home. Do you remember how you cut it?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “In art class. We were cutting out feathers for our turkeys. I cut it on the side of the paper.”

“Well, don’t worry, son. It’s just a little cut. The cold snow must have opened it up, but it will be all right. You’ll see.”

Father and children went back to building their snowman.

“Want me to come with you to LaGuardia?” Lauren offered, hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it.

“No, that’s silly, angel. We’ll say good-bye here.”

She watched as he packed the rest of his toiletries into his kit, relieved that he could get only this afternoon flight back to Chicago. If the evening flights hadn’t been fully booked, she would have had either to skip the party or to bring him with her. Neither option was acceptable. Lauren wanted to work this party alone.

“Thank goodness it will only be for a few days, sweetheart. Then we’ll be together again on Thanksgiving.” Lauren kissed him on the back of the neck.

He turned and took her in his arms, longing in his intelligent blue eyes. Yes, she had him right where she wanted him. But she wanted Linus as well. Not in the same lustful way that she craved her handsome investment banker, but she desired the executive producer nonetheless. Power was a tremendous aphrodisiac. Linus had the power to catapult her career.

Once she was safely ensconced in Constance Young’s spot, she could drop Linus if she chose. He wouldn’t be able to fire her then for fear she would shout sexual harassment. He would look like a fool. And if Lauren was sure of anything, she was sure of that. Linus would do anything to avoid looking foolish.

Bringing a bottle of good wine to Linus’s party was like bringing coals to Newcastle, but Gavin wouldn’t think of coming empty-handed. Certain things were expected. That was the way he was raised. He was also raised to be prompt. Being on time was a sign of respect. Thus, he was the first to arrive.

Though he had been here each autumn for many years, he was still impressed as he walked into the penthouse apartment. Three floors on Central Park West. Twelve million at least. Linus was well paid, but KEY hadn’t afforded him this place. This was the direct result of marrying well. Very well.

Wayne met him at the thirty-first-floor entry.

“Dad’s still in the shower. Come on up and have a drink.”

They walked through the spacious family room and climbed the spiral staircase to the main floor of the apartment. A beautifully proportioned corner living-dining area offered spectacular views of New York from the oversize thermal-paned windows. Central Park and the lake straight ahead, the city skyline towering to the south, the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir lying north.

“This must have been a great place to watch the Thanksgiving parade when you were young,” Gavin observed, looking down at Central Park West.

“Not as good as you might think,” answered Wayne. “We’re up so high, we’d only see the tops of the balloons. Santa Claus was a little red-and-white blur.”

A waiter approached and took Gavin’s drink order.

“Mrs. Winston wasn’t able to make it?” asked Wayne, grasping for small talk, wishing his father would finish getting dressed and come out here.

“No, she wasn’t feeling well,” Gavin lied. Marguerite detested coming to office functions, and Gavin was just as glad. Especially this time. Let her sit up there in Connecticut and pet her precious pooch.

The bell rang, and Wayne excused himself to greet the next guest.

He was feeling miserable. His head ached, and he grabbed the railing as he walked down the spiral staircase, steadying himself. This Cipro really packed a punch. Wayne had been back and forth to the bathroom all day, not knowing whether to bend over the bowl or sit on it.

How was he going to get through this party?

Maybe, as soon as more guests came, he could slip away without anyone noticing. He could hole up in his bedroom and nobody would even realize that he was gone.

Sometimes, twisted as he knew it was, Wayne actually envied his brother. Seth lay in bed in his safe room, day after day, his needs well tended to. Fed, warmed, bathed. His hair was cut for him, his nails clipped. His pajamas were made of the softest cottons, his blankets the softest wools. Music was piped in to soothe him, though only God knew if Seth needed soothing. Wayne doubted it.

Seth didn’t have to worry about what he was going to do with his life or what other people thought of him. He didn’t have to be concerned about his professional or personal reputation. No one expected anything of Seth. His father was never disappointed in him.

Wayne hated himself when he thought like this. Seth never saw a glowing sunrise or a hot orange sunset. He’d never kissed a woman or chugged an icy beer. Never driven a car, letting a warm summer breeze blow through the open window while the radio blared, tapping his hand on the steering wheel to the beat. He’d missed baseball and soccer and football games and summer camp and pony rides and birthday parties and all the little things that happened every single day. Spicy hot dogs and crisp french fries, kites flying high above Central Park, sledding through the snow, jumping through the waves. He had missed his life.

But he’d also never caught their mother weeping time after time as she’d sat beside his bed. Seth hadn’t had to interpret the haunted, anguished expression on his father’s face when he came into the room to check on his fallen son. He didn’t have to keep trying to make it up to them for everything. He didn’t have to fail miserably.

Nor did Seth have to live with any guilt about what might have been.

Wayne pasted a smile on his face, opening the door to welcome the next person to the party.

“There’s a lasagna in the refrigerator. Just stick it in the oven and heat it up, okay, Mike?”

“Don’t worry, Annabelle. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Go and have a good time.”

He had been more active today than he had in a long time, and Annabelle thought he looked tired now. Giving the twins dinner and their baths could leave him exhausted. She didn’t want to leave him, but she had to go to this damned party.

“Mrs. Nuzzo’s number is on the bulletin board. Don’t hesitate to call her if you need help, honey.”

“Annabelle,” he said with exasperation, “I’m fine.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, I know you are.” She kissed him on the cheek and pulled on the beaver jacket. “Tara, Thomas, I’m going now,” she called.

The children scurried from the bedroom and hugged her good-bye.

“You look pretty, Mommy,” declared Thomas.

“Thank you, kind sir.” Annabelle laughed, hugging the little boy, knowing that her hair was being mussed by the small arms wrapped around her neck, but not caring. “You two, be good for Daddy.” She turned to her husband. “I won’t be late, and I’m on my cell phone if you need me.”

Now
this
is where he should be looking for a place.

Russ stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the cantilevered terraces on the towering Majestic. Those were a far cry from the tiny porches affixed to the old row house back in Baltimore.

He hated going back there, but he would have to this week. There was no way around it. He had promised, and his mother was counting on his visit. She was already cooking for it.

But he had prepared her for the fact that he wasn’t going to spend the night. Driving down Thursday morning after the show, a quick visit, and then driving back up to New York that night. He had a review due Friday.

Mother didn’t need to know that the review would be pretaped. Let her think he was doing it live in the studio. She wouldn’t be able to discern the difference. The average viewer couldn’t either.

No, on Friday, Russ would be out in the Hamptons, enjoying the weekend hospitality of a movie studio executive. No matter that it would be cold out there. He’d heard the guy had a fabulous home. Lots of space and giant glass walls that offered awesome views of the Atlantic. A staff that catered to every whim. A chance to spend quality time discussing potential business opportunities.

If all went well, Linus might have a new neighbor.